


outta pocket (unrelated QS scenes and fills)

by youngerdrgrey



Category: Queen Sugar (TV)
Genre: Multi, Not a fic, Thanksgiving, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-02-02 10:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12725145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngerdrgrey/pseuds/youngerdrgrey
Summary: a collection for the scenes that go untitled;includes prompts like"I like your hair." / "Can I call him out on it?" / Remy and Charley talk about kids, post-214 / etc.





	1. "I like your hair." Ch/Remy

**Author's Note:**

> Individual chapter summaries clue you in on what's up. I never really figured I'd be this person who has one of these, but here we are, with a fic that'll have a bunch of tags.
> 
> **this fic:** an anon prompted “I like your hair.” // here’s a post-208 date for Charley and Remy

.

.

Remy has an honesty to him that makes something as simple as peering across the table seem intimate. Almost, indecent. He grins at Charley now the same way he did in her kitchen, like replacing his words with a grin will stop her from hearing his thoughts. Stop her from catching the way he studies her.

But he flushes clear to the top of his head, and a stare alone should not be able to do that. He’d told her once that her soul could handle all this. What about the rest of her?

Her cheeks keep flushing. Her toes curl in her heels. She smiles whenever she isn’t chewing, or drinking. She giggles, honest to God, and he still won’t look away from her. He drinks her in unabashedly now, actively memorizing the lines of her face and the curl of her hair. He’s gotta stop, though. She can’t focus like this.

“Remy,” she says his name with a grumble. A warning sound’s what she aims for, but the way his lips curl back tells her there might be a bit too much bass and too little breath in that to sound intimidating.

“What?” He rises up in his seat, so he’s at his full height. “Lady, I have waited months to take you out.”

“And that’s how you want to spend your time? Watching?” Her eyebrows go up.

His lift a bit too. “For now.” That sounds like a promise, and she has to glance away from the truth in that.

It’s too much — him, this. Being in a restaurant together, not as colleagues, or as friends, but as potential partners staring down the barrel at another forever. The gumbo’s easy, but the laughter? The light bursting at the inside of her ribcage? She feels like she’s blinding the world with it, interrupting everybody else with her deep laugh. But there are no cameras to worry about, nothing else but this man in front of her and how she feels about him.

“I didn’t tell you before, but I like your hair.”

“Do you now?” Her tongue feels too big for her mouth, and to not admit that takes a lot. He leaves her unhinged with her pulse thrumming beneath her fingers and her cheeks almost sore from smiling. Then he goes and compliments her? She tries to make a game out of it, channel her adrenaline into this moment with him. She leans into the table. “What do you like about it?” Her tone sounds a bit too much like they’re talking about hollering again, but he doesn’t pick up on the bait, at least not visibly.

He twists his beer bottle, dries the condensation from his fingertips on his napkin.

“It’s reactive. A little more full, a little more lively, but no less contained than it used to be.”

Shit. “Are you adding writer to your endless list of professions?”

He laughs, eyes alight and cheeks full. “Only about you.”

She groans. She can’t even help it. “You’re too much.” He’s honest and eloquent and real in a way that forces her to process her own emotions so she doesn’t wind up entirely volatile. He’s quick as she is, but less tethered since he’s had different obstacles in his way she has. He wouldn’t say anything he doesn’t mean, and he’s not wrong either. The fact that her hair’s a little larger and yet still almost completely in her control, rather than in the greater society’s, well, that’s a plus. And it’s a timesaver, at least when she doesn’t have to worry about the humidity stressing her curls out further. She has a few new products that help battle the frizz that she definitely wants under control with the rain out here.

Remy brings his hands together, and she reaches across the table to cover his linked ones.

“But thank you, for the words,” she says.

“Thank you for dinner.” He lifts his hands out so he can clasp hers now. His thumbs knead into her palm, and masseuse might be on his list of occupations as well. “Now, what are we doing for dessert?”

.

.


	2. "Can I call him out on it?" Ch+Micah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an anon prompted “Can I call him out on it?” // Micah sees Davis talking shit.

.

.

##  **@micahwestcoast** you got a new step daddy already?

 “What the fu–” Micah buries that last part into his salted caramel ice cream before his mom can hear it. She perks up beside him on the couch, but he clicks on the latest tweet in his mentions instead of glancing her way.

People tag him in shit all the time that’s inappropriate. They seem to still think that it’s okay to drag him into whatever jokes they want to make about his family, but this tweet definitely has a stealth video of his dad in it. So, he takes a breath, turns his phone sideways so the video can take up the whole screen, and presses play.

His dad laughs at a table in a restaurant. The angle’s off in the video, and the sound’s far enough away that it’s probably somebody at a nearby table who’s actually recording. But he’s definitely audible when he says, “I don’t get it, man. Charley’s out here with a new man. Why should I be waiting around if she isn’t? Why penalize me?”

His teammate – who Micah should probably learn the name of eventually – hypes him up. “That’s what they do, man. She really got a new man though?”

Davis scoffs into his glass. “A farmer. Can you believe that?” Then they laugh together over that.

Micah groans and tosses his phone beside him on the couch. Funny how his dad doesn’t mention how cozy he has been getting with Tamar Judith. He only focuses on the thought that Charley could move on. Which, she has a right to do. Micah not want anybody else coming in to their lives, but he’d rather it be through her than through his dad.

His mom’s quieter than she normally is. But her jaw’s tense, and her nostrils flare, so it’s definitely not sadness. It’s that look she normally reserves for Uncle Rah when he tries to make farm decisions without her.

Micah says, “He’s being a jerk,”

She says, “He’s being Davis.”

Which, Davis is half of Micah, so putting it that way sort of stings a bit. Micah shifts away from that discomfort. “Can I call him out on it?”

She scoops some of her own ice cream to buy some time. “Not on Twitter. Keep us off the timeline as much as possible.”

But he put them on the timeline. They should be able to respond in a way that’s visible and viral too. “How about this then?” 

Micah scoops his phone back up and opens snapchat. He scoots close enough that the puppy filter can catch them both, and she grins for the picture, even if she side-eyes him a bit. He captions the picture:  _#only man in her life_.

She swats at his shoulder in a way that always means ‘send me that photo.’ He rolls his eyes, but he air-drops it with the caption to her phone. Then he posts his to Twitter (she’s not looking) while she makes a few changes on her copy.

She posts it on her Insta-story and tags him. She crosses out the  _man_  in his and corrects it with  _boy*._ She even adds  _#be humble. You’re sixteen, @micahwestcoast._

He clicks to reply to her post. Types,  _I am humble, by the way._

She reads the notification and tucks her head into his shoulder. “I know, baby. You’re perfect.” She nuzzles in a little, which means the sadness must still be there. That’s how the grief stages work, right? Anger into sadness?

He slips his arm around her and squeezes. “You’re not so bad yourself.” They’ll get through it. They just have to stick together.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wish this picture actually existed, so I’ll just sit here hoping a selfie exists that can be turned into it.


	3. Ch/Remy, kids, post-214

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon wanted Charley and Remy, post-214, talking kids. 
> 
> // Charley might laugh and say, “Too soon,” to Micah, but it really is too soon. 
> 
> [anyways, ref to guns + police violence; emotions ahead.]

.

.

“I have a son,” Charley says. Her jacket’s already half off her shoulders, and she doesn’t wait for Remy to step aside before blowing past him into his place. She spins, heart heavy and all the air inside of her battling over where to go next.

Remy nods as he pushes his door closed. “I know that.”

“You do, but, at the same time, you don’t.”

Her hands find her hips. “When Micah was little, we talked about his day, you know. We talked about his friends and his homework, and now we talk about whether or not it’s understandable for black people to live in constant fear of the world around them.” She laughs, but it sounds stressed even to her ears. “And we take him everywhere, even though he has a license and technically still even has a car. But every single one of us is terrified. Terrified that this time –” it’ll be Micah’s knees to the alley floor, gun in his mouth, and when someone pulls the trigger, it goes off. And there’s nothing they can do.

Her heart pounds, and her palms sweat, and she can hardly swallow, her mouth’s so dry. Remy takes a step towards her, but she steps right back out of his reach. It’s like a bad dance, or like the last time she was at his house.

She says, “On his birthday, he nearly died. At the hands of some… some  _pig_  with an outdated notion of who deserves to exist in this world. So, right now, I don’t spend a lot of time wondering about what’s going to happen next. I stay a few steps ahead in business, but everywhere else, I am taking every day as it comes. And I want a chance at something, with you, but I can’t promise that I can do all of this all over again. I-I can’t.”

Remy blinks her in. Her jaw trembles now, so that definitely helps her prove she’s firm in her stance. That helps her credibility. She clamps her mouth shut to stop it, which only has him softening his eyes. Reaching for her.

“You never mentioned that,” he says.

Something like a sob breaks out of her. “Neither did he.”

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if this were part of an episode, though, they’d come back later, and probs talk about how Micah doesn’t want to do anything + how he’s more like Davis than her in that way. how Charley had hoped that he’d want to change something bc just sitting with it, knowing what happened and what could happen to somebody else, it’s not doing any of them any favors.
> 
> \+ remy would say, “are you upset bc of Micah or you?”
> 
> “I’m upset for the whole community, Remy.” then, “The people down here act however they want with absolutely no consequences. Doesn’t it bother you?”
> 
> “of course it bothers me. honey, I’ve lived here my whole life. it hurts to say it, but this stuff happens. so, we find our own ways to get through it. we celebrate how we can, and we live right, and–”
> 
> “we sit down and take it?” she sneers. “I’m not built for that. no how.”
> 
> “if Micah doesn’t want to do anything–”
> 
> “it’s not just Micah. it’s the Landrys. it’s the other farmers and the way that they seem so uninterested in trusting in the process, or in me. there’s something I can do. I just haven’t figured it out yet.”
> 
> then her little slytherin brain churns even faster while remy looks on warily.


	4. Charley+Nova, karaoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> karaoke for the sisters ~ post-s2

+

Charley sends her requisite text to Micah from the doorway of the bar. The usual:  _go to bed, do your homework, try not to get suspended again._

Nova dances where she steps. Her footwork’s not as good as the street performers out there, but she can do enough that a few people look her way. She smirks right back at them.

“Come on, Charley, you take any longer, and I’m going in without you.”

Charley slips her phone into her purse. “I’m done. I’m done. I just needed to check in.” She straightens her dress, tugging it down to its full length. Bless the heat on nights like this, though. None of her dresses go longer than her knees, and if it were actually chilly, she’d have to dance with Nova just to stay warm.

“Micah knows better than to act out.” Nova sidesteps the bouncer at the door. He stares after her, only pausing in his leering to throw a glance at Charley too.

Charley gives a tight-lipped smile to him as she follows. Instrumental music picks up, and Charley has to call out over it. “That why Keke was over last time? Unsupervised?”

Nova gives a low whistle. Laughs as she peers back at her sister. “Boy’s growing up.”

Charley shakes her head. “Not like that. Not now.” She might’ve gotten married young, but Micah doesn’t need to do that. It might be good to wait, until he’s older and has a better grasp of himself and whoever else he might be interested in. 

Nova must hear the tension in her voice since she stops walking and turns around. “You know Micah’s not Davis, right?”

Charley nods. But he sure is becoming more and more like his father every day. “Come on, let’s get out there.”

There being what should be a dance floor. What normally is a dance floor any other day of the week, but Thursdays are apparently karaoke nights. A makeshift stage takes up the usual floor space, and a few giggling college girls crowd around the book of songs.

Charley starts shaking her head at the same time that Nova claps her hands. “No, Nova, we are not–”

“We have to!” Nova beams. “When’s the last time you did this?”

Charley’s eyebrows skyrocket. “Sober? Never.”

Nova grabs Charley’s hand to pull her over to the song book. “Then we have to fix that. You wanna do a duet, or you going solo?”

“Nobody wants to hear this.”

Nova laughs, says, “Can’t nobody tell me that I can’t sing!”

Charley swats at her. “Nobody said anything.”

“Your eyebrows said it all. You don’t want Micah to have more fun than you, now do you?”

Charley huffs. “One song.”

“Mhm.”

“I mean it!”

.

.


	5. Thanksgiving (pre-s3)

it’s the week before Thanksgiving when Micah drums his thumbs on the counter, puffs his chest, and says, “I want to spend part of Thanksgiving with Dad.” barracks are normally pretty quiet, but he can hear the way his mom struggles to control her breathing. can hear her eyelids stick as she focuses away from the dishes in the sink and prepares to face him again.

“You do?” 

Micah nods. “Yeah. Just the morning, and then I’ll head straight for Aunt Vi’s.”

Charley turns around, but she grips the sink behind her like a lifeline. She’s got that over enunciation thing she does when she’s flustered too. “Well, dinner’s at four, Micah. Maybe even earlier with all the extra hands this year. That’s hardly enough time to see your father.”

“Yeah, but–”

“He made a choice.” Charley blinks and starts again. “If he cared about traditions all that much, he –”

“It’s just for a few hours, Mom. I already told him I was coming.”

so, that’s how Thanksgiving kicks off for the year.

+

Originally, Charley was supposed to help with prep because she couldn’t be there in the morning on Thanksgiving. But once Micah changes the plan, she heads over in the morning and acts as designated runner in case they forget anything, or somebody (Blue) takes the rolls out the fridge and ruins the whole batch.

She mostly chops and peels. Blames the tears on the edge of her eyes on the onions and not on the way that this whole mourning thing never really ends.

Nova breezes through the kitchen to grab a carrot at one point. She notes the tears and bites off part of the carrot. “You know what’ll fix that?”

Charley makes a curious sound, but she keeps on chopping. Nova doesn’t say anything, so Charley has to look up to get an answer.

Nova smirks and lifts up the bottle of Hennessey in her hand. She starts saying, “Oh yes,” before Charley can even protest. “That wine’s not what you need on a day like this. Come on, just one. For Daddy.”

Charley points the knife at her sister when she glares. “That’s  _low_ , Nova.” But she lowers the knife and gives a little nod. “A short glass. Please. I’ve still got cutting to do.”

Nova pours and adds enough ginger ale that Charley can’t tell exactly how strong the drink is until she sips. Charley sputters a bit, which definitely doesn’t help the tears. But the light burn gives her something else to focus on.

She clinks her cup with Nova’s. “Thank you.”

“Mhm. Remember this kindness when we sit at that Spades table.” Nova turns to head back out the kitchen.

Charley calls out, “I thought we were partners.”

“That was just for that fight. Un-un, I’m back with Rah tonight. You can have Micah.”

“Micah can’t play!”

Nova laughs. “Now, whose fault is that?”

+

Since Nova’s free of her sous chef duties, she hangs out with all the boys. Plays Uno with Blue and keeps him distracted from the hushed conversation Rah and ‘Wood are having about Darla.

He hears it though. Keeps his voice pretty steady as he lays down a blue six and says, “Mommy’s taking me shopping tonight.”

Nova sifts out a red six and tops his. “I heard. You excited?”

He shrugs. “She hasn’t been to any of the stuff this year. We had a potluck.” He draws until he gets a red four. “But only Pops and Auntie Vi went to that.”

Nova lays down a red skip, and Blue barely even groans. She drops a red three. “Now you know that Auntie Vi made the best mac and cheese for your potluck.”

“Of course she did, but I wanted Mommy to see the turkey I drew. It’s only in the gym ‘cause we can’t take them home yet. It’s got every color in the rainbow on it.” He shuffles his cards in his hands. “Even though, they said turkeys can’t be all the colors. I said, ‘it’s my special turkey,’ and Nick laughed at me.”

“Nick? Where have I heard that name?”

Blue glances down at his cards. “Nick didn’t want to come to my birthday.”

She sucks her teeth. That little brat. “And you thought your mom could make him like it?”

Blue shakes his head. “I just thought that she would like it. But she’s not around like she used to be.”

Nova taps his cards so he’ll play one. It’s a wild he finds, and his eyes light up for a second. 

“Auntie Nova,” he whispers, “you wanna know a secret?”

She whispers too, even levels her face with the table like he does. “If you got one!”

He scrambles out of his seat to be that much closer to her, then he says, “I already know what I’m asking Santa for.” He wiggles his eyebrows and that joy charges forward onto his face. “For Mommy and Daddy to get married again.”

Her face goes stiff. Wooden smile, frozen eyes, and that laugh that comes out of her is nothing but air. “Y-you sure about that, Blue?”

He nods. “That’s what I want.” He slips back into his seat. “It’s your turn. Color’s green.”

Color’s surprised, but okay. She’s got a reverse that she casts like a spell.

+


End file.
